Below is the poem entitled THE PERILOUS YEARS which was written by poet
Zamalea. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.
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From “The Last Land”
The years were fresh but the sea
Was filled with stomach cramps, and burning tips
Against a psychic belly
The vibration of fishes
As they were jumping angrily over the sun's rim.
A toxic light as a procession
With its own measure fled over all these scattering shadows
And its demented ray makes love
To the son of Evil who was striking suddenly
As a wedding ass in a golden plate!
In a small fountain, concentrating
By diluted water, I drink;
I try to be alive; that's the only reason
I was loving this unknown monster because I myself not human,
Not a soul sailing but a rare thyroid that created those
Structures threatening to evade the failing
Moment; as they say, the Hope made the killers
Smiling, when the verdict was just a fancy holder.
And when the monitors were still invisible
A voice was thrilling off, "Oh, I’ll born tomorrow and I can erase
Myself today and see myself in front of you
Twenty thousand years for now," he said
As an antibiotic; behind it all things still pursing each other,
By the still unknown forcer, and with intensity
All smashed around me.